


The Light of Our Armistice Day

by Selkit



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Yuletide 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8889472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkit/pseuds/Selkit
Summary: After dawn, Emily finds herself with more paralyzing memories than friends. But that's fine. She doesn't need anyone else. She never has.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hyenateeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyenateeth/gifts).



> Most of the characters' surnames were never mentioned in the game itself, but I've used the official surnames as revealed in the "Rush of Blood" VR spinoff game released this past October. 
> 
> Happy first Yuletide! I hope you enjoy the fic. :)

9:46:32  
February 3, 2015

BMCP00138  
Police Interview  
Room 2  
Official Transcript

Subject: Davis, Emily

Interviewer: Tell me about your relationship with Jessica Riley.

Subject: What? What the hell does that have to do with anything?

Interviewer: Some members of your group said that Jessica and her boyfriend left the lodge and went to a guest cabin on the property.

Subject: Yeah, so?

Interviewer: They said Jessica and Michael split off from the group primarily because of some…intense animosity between you and Jessica. 

Subject: Wait, so, is Jess dead or something? Are you asking me if _I_ killed her? Oh my God, this is insane.

Interviewer: Ms. Davis, please stay calm. Fortunately Jessica is not dead, but she’s in pretty rough shape, and there are signs of a struggle at the guest cabin. We’re just wondering if you know anything about what happened there. 

(Subject becomes visibly agitated.)

Subject: Of _course_ I don’t know anything about what happened there. I was too busy, you know, trying to survive being dropped off of a flaming tower into a huge creepy disgusting mine infested with face-eating monsters? 

Interviewer: (pause) It’s natural to be in shock after undergoing a traumatic experience. 

Subject: I’m _not_ in shock, okay? I’m just—

(Subject throws her hands in the air.)

Subject: You know what, forget it. I’m not answering any more questions without a lawyer. 

Interviewer: Ms. Davis, you’re not being accused of anything. We’re simply trying to piece together everything that happened last night.

(Subject crosses her arms and glares at the camera.)

Interviewer: Based on Jessica’s description of the incident, you don’t fit the profile of the attacker. In fact, she specifically excluded you from consideration. 

Subject: (blinks, appears momentarily taken aback) She did?

Interviewer: Yes. From the sounds of things, you two used to be close, didn’t you?

Subject: (sighs, appears uncomfortable) I still don’t get how this is relevant. I told you, I wasn’t at the guest cabin and I have no idea what happened there. Why don’t you ask Mike? I’m sure _he_ knows. 

Interviewer: All right, let’s move on to another topic. 

Subject: Wait…so you said Jess is hurt? But like, she’s still alive, right? She made it out and everything?

Interviewer: She suffered some serious cuts and bruises and broke several ribs, but the paramedics didn’t report any life-threatening injuries.

Subject: (appears lost in thought)

Interviewer: If you’d like to see her after we’re done here, I’m sure that could be arranged. 

Subject: No…no, that’s okay. I’m…

Interviewer: You’re what?

Subject: Nothing. Whatever, let’s just move on. 

* * *

February 11, 2015

And now everything was supposed to just go back to normal. As though a week of distance from being chased by actual flesh-eating supernatural monsters would be enough to wipe away the memories and make everything all peachy again.

 _Yeah,_ Emily thought. _Like hell._

She pushed through the door to her English Lit class, huddling her bag close to her side even though she was safely back in southern California’s warmth, the antithesis of Blackwood Mountain if there ever was one. The early-morning sunshine spilled through the window, catching on the dust motes the janitors had missed, spilling across the classroom floor in a misshapen rectangle. The teacher stood at her desk, shuffling through papers. All around the room, desk legs squeaked across the floor, voices rose and fell in a meaningless hubbub, and phones pinged with text notifications as students prepared to settle in for yet another day.

Nothing had changed. And yet, everything had. 

Emily huffed out a breath and dropped into her usual seat, her fingers straying to trace the letters carefully inked into the side of her desk. 

_Matt + Em Forever,_ it read, with a sloppy lopsided heart drawn over the words, slicing through the _r_ in _forever._

She snorted. Matt had leaned over and scribbled it there a few weeks back, bored out of his mind in class, and she’d stifled a snicker and blown him a kiss while the teacher’s back was turned. And then he’d gone and left her to die hanging off the edge of a collapsing burning building, like they were in a goddamn Spider-Man movie and he was the villain, jumping to protect his own sorry ass. As though she wasn’t even worth trying to save. 

Emily’s eyes slid to the seat next to hers, where Matt usually slouched after trotting in to class five minutes late. Empty, now. She wasn’t surprised. She knew he’d made it off the mountain, but she hadn’t seen or spoken to him since that godawful night.

She didn’t want to. His absence was a relief, the only one she’d felt since she’d climbed into the police helicopter, body wracked with uncontrollable shivers. More from the shock than from the cold, the paramedics had said. She’d barely heard them. She remembered pressing her face to the tiny window, staring far below as the chopper lifted off. She hadn’t moved until the lodge was nothing but a smear of flame and greasy smoke, an inferno interrupting the vast stretch of bleak winter-gray. 

Suddenly the classroom was too small, the teacher’s voice an incessant drone like a hornet buzzing right next to her ear. She could hear the other students’ restless fidgeting, pressing in on her. Too loud, like leftover ringing after an explosion. A yawn. A cough. A grumbling sigh. She wanted to yell at them all to shut the hell up already. What right did they have to be getting on her last nerve all the time? What right did they have to act like everything was just _normal_ , like the world would be perfectly fine going on without her if she’d been shot in the face by her ex-boyfriend or decapitated by a wendigo? 

The room’s warmth, comforting only a few moments ago, felt as hot as the surface of the sun, prickling and stabbing at her skin. She wondered if this was what Josh had felt like, if this awful sensation—of being stuck in the past while the world kept going—was why he’d dropped out of college after his sisters disappeared. She remembered mocking his weakness behind closed doors with Jess, scoffing about how he was throwing his future away because he couldn’t handle a little bit of loss. Jess’s laugh had turned uncomfortable and strained when she said that, her eyes shifting away, but Emily hadn’t thought much of it. At least not back then. 

As the memories spiraled out of control, the bite wound on her shoulder flared in protest, first aching, then itching. She slid her fingers beneath her shirt collar, scratching savagely even though it wouldn’t help. It never did. The wound still hadn’t healed fully—God only knew if it ever would. It wasn’t exactly like modern medicine was up to date on how to treat the bite of a demon cannibal monster. 

_With a bullet to the face? Would that have been a better option?_

If she closed her eyes, she could see herself back in that basement, huddled on the desk, staring down the gun’s barrel, watching Mike’s finger tighten on the trigger. 

Her stomach heaved, her eyes flying open. She lurched from her seat and stumbled to the aisle, dragging her bag behind her, barely hearing the flurry of poorly-concealed whispers that chased her out the door. 

* * *

Her car wheels squealed on the blacktop as she tore out of the parking lot, and she tried not to think of how much it reminded her of a wendigo's scream—

—of _Hannah’s_ scream—

“Shit!” she hissed, then again, louder, if for no other reason than to give herself something to listen to besides the memories. She stomped down on the gas pedal and whizzed around some idiot who was crawling along at a snail’s pace.

“Shit,” she muttered again. She drove without thinking, breathing in, breathing out, letting the car carry her wherever it wanted to go, as long as it was _away._

She didn’t slow until she found herself pulling into a space at a nearby park, pulling the key from the ignition and tumbling out of the car, half-running across the grassy knoll. A lone bench sat beneath a tree near the park’s edge, and she lowered herself onto it, pulling her knees to her chest, hidden in the shade’s expanse. 

Finally, her breathing slowed. Here, she was safe in a wide-open space. She could see danger coming from miles away. All was quiet, aside from the occasional bird’s song or the ruffle of the breeze blowing through leaves. And it was familiar. 

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree’s trunk, feeling the well-worn scratch of the bark against her scalp. It was impossible not to remember all the hours she’d spent here with Jess, sitting on this very bench and gossiping until the stars came out and the temperature dropped. It had been their own little spot, apart from the rest of the group. A place they could safely talk about whatever they pleased without fear of overhearing ears. 

She hadn’t been back here since the day she’d found out Mike and Jess were together, and she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. For the first time in a long time, some of the tension ebbed from her shoulders, and she let herself listen to the sounds of nature without dreading a wendigo’s hair-raising screech.

“Emily?”

She jerked halfway off the bench, eyes flying open, the fragile peace shattered. 

“Oh my _God!”_ she bellowed, arm upraised, as though she could fight off an attacker with her bare hands. “Don’t scare me like that!” 

She dropped back onto the bench, forcing her breath under control, and glared at the intruder. _Jess. Of course. It had to be Jess._

“What are you doing here?” she growled, for lack of anything else better to say. She gripped the bench boards with both hands, bracing for an argument, until she registered the expression on Jessica’s face. 

She didn’t look angry, or even surprised. She just looked…tired. Empty, almost. 

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were here.” Jess’s voice was flat, listless. It was a jarring change from her usual peppy bounce. “I come out here sometimes, just to…get away, I guess. To think.”

“Thinking never was your strong suit.” The acidic remark slipped out before she could think better of it, as per usual. This time, however, she felt an odd little twinge of regret.

She chased it off and set her jaw, waiting for Jess to fire back with a rejoining insult, or just to roll her eyes, to turn around and stalk away. Instead, Jess took one slow step forward, then another, each movement careful and deliberate as though she were eighty years old. Then she turned and gingerly lowered herself to the bench, a foot away from Emily. 

They sat in silence. Emily tilted her head back, listening to the wind, trying not to look at the slump of Jessica’s shoulders. 

“That night,” she finally said, unable to tolerate the stupid silence any longer. “Or the next morning, really. The cops said they were trying to figure out what happened to you. They said someone attacked you at the guest cabin?”

“Not someone.” Jess’s voice was a quiet, brittle rasp. Emily thought of a tumbleweed, blowing forlorn across a vacant desert. “Some _thing_.” 

“Yeah. A wendigo.” 

“Wendigo,” Jess echoed. “Mike told me that’s what it was. It didn’t seem real. That’s like…something out of a fable, you know?”

“Oh, it was real.” Emily's lip curled. Ever since the mountain, she’d been trying not to think of what _other_ supposedly mystical shit was actually all too tangible. Ghosts? Vampires? Unicorns? All bets were off, now. “So, what, it dragged you out of the cabin?”

“Yeah. It came right through the window, took me out with it.” Jess pulled her arms around herself, face drawn tight with the memory—or maybe with physical pain. It was hard to tell. “It dragged me all the way down to the mine. Then I fell. Down a…like an elevator shaft, I guess.”

“So that’s why you’re walking around like you’re about to break in half?” Emily said, one eyebrow dragging up her forehead. 

Jess nodded. “My ribs are still all busted up.”

“It got me, too.” Emily tugged at the collar of her shirt, revealing the bite mark. Jess turned her head slowly, like a puppet on a string, and leaned down to look.

“Shit,” she breathed. 

“Yeah.” Emily let her shirt snap back into place. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “But like…that’s not even the worst part.” She sighed, the words coming out grudgingly. “It’s that I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened.”

She ground her teeth, not looking at Jess. “I’m supposed to be in class right now. But I ran out. Like some sniveling kid on the first day of kindergarten or something. It was—I don’t know, it was too bright, too hot, too something. It felt like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stop remembering.”

“Panic attack,” Jess said softly. “I’ve been having them, too.”

Emily wanted to scoff. Panic attacks? Not her. 4.0 students didn’t get panic attacks. She was a master at handling stress. She had to be.

Instead, she glanced over at Jess. 

“Have you talked to anyone about it?” she said. 

Jess raised her eyebrows. “You mean like a therapist?”

“No. Well, yeah, I guess. But I meant, have you been talking to anyone else from the group?”

Jess’s eyes went distant, and she shook her head. “Not really. Except you, right now.” She paused. “Mike, a little bit.” 

Emily waited for the surge of bitterness that always came whenever she thought of Jess and Mike together. It rose in her throat, but just a little, a simmering burn instead of the usual white-hot rage. 

“I haven’t either,” she said. It felt like a confession, and she saw Jessica’s head turn in surprise.

“Really?” Jess said. 

“No. Who would I even talk to?” Now the bitterness heated and stretched, pooling in her stomach and crawling along all her nerves, but it had changed, seeking out new targets. “Matt left me to die on the fire tower. Mike almost shot me in the face, and no one stopped him. Sam sort of tried, but even she was gonna just stand there and let him do it. Chris and Ash _wanted_ him to. And Josh—” She swallowed hard. “Last I heard they hadn’t even found his body yet. Even if they do bring him back alive, he’s the asshole who dragged us all up there in the first place. So yeah. There’s no one. Guess the one nice thing about a night like that is that you learn who your friends really are, huh?”

The silence fell again. Not even the damn birds were chirping anymore. Emily glanced around, taking in every possible source of movement, but the park remained calm, muted sunlight filtering through the tree branches. 

“Yeah,” Jess finally said. “I guess you do.” She gave a weak laugh. “Silver lining?”

Emily snorted, but her mouth turned up in a half-smile. “Hell of a price to pay.”

“No kidding.” Jess matched her smile, but then she sobered, her eyes turning troubled. “Mike never mentioned anything about…almost shooting you.”

“Figures.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Who would have thought that you stealing him from me would turn out to be the _least_ shitty thing someone’s done to me this year?”

She heard Jessica’s intake of breath, long and slow, like she was mulling words over in her mind.

“Em…” she whispered.

 _Shut up,_ Emily almost said. _Whatever it is, I don’t care. I want to fight. I don’t want to fight. I can’t take this. I’m scared. I’m pissed off. I’m—_

“What?” she said, turning to Jess. It came out like a snap, and she could feel her eyes sparking and narrowing, but Jess didn’t flinch. 

“I was just gonna say,” Jess began, measuring her words, “that I’ve missed this. Being able to talk to you about stuff.” She let out another deep breath, and her shoulders deflated, like she’d been carrying around the words for too long. “This is the first time I’ve even left my house in like three days.”

Her eyes flickered up to Emily, then back to the ground. Emily watched Jess's hands, restless and twisting in her lap. _Waiting for a rejection,_ Emily realized. A biting comment, a hurled insult. 

“You know what?” Emily said. “We’re gonna beat this fucking thing.” 

Jess lifted her head, her eyes widening. Brightening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Emily let herself slide down the bench, just a little closer. “We made it off the mountain, and now we’re going to make it through this.”

Jess looked at her, face tight, like she wasn’t quite daring to hope. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it.” Emily snorted. “You know me.”

As she watched, Jess finally smiled, relief softening the lines and shadows on her face. “Yeah,” she said. “I do.”


End file.
